


The Discovery of Beauty

by GraeHarrow



Series: The Age of Beauty [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cussing, F/M, Possible Character Death, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraeHarrow/pseuds/GraeHarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solona Amell is an apprentice at Ferelden's Circle of Magi. She has been training her entire life for greatness, for the hope of eventually leaving the prison that is The Circle. This story follows her from the beginning of Origins until the end.</p><p>I have included some time before her Harrowing, to better expand on what I believe life at the Circle would be like. I have not yet decided how much of the actual game I will include.</p><p>This is the beginning of a series depicting The Three Mages: The Hero of Ferelden, The Champion of Kirkwall, and finally, The Herald of Andraste. I have always wanted to explore the world-state that would come of these Mage Heroes, and furthermore, their interactions with a certain Templar. My Hero is Solona Amell, my Champion is Marian Hawke, and my Herald is Evelyn Trevelyan. The Age of Beauty Series will explore their stories through the games, and perhaps beyond. This will furthermore be part of a larger sequence of stories exploring the different characters and options in the games, and what world-state this might produce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Discovery of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of Fanfiction, please be gentle but unafraid to send me helpful criticism. 
> 
> This work will be written as I play though the game. I will include events and conversations as they happen, though I intend to expand on certain conversations and events. The Solona I depict here is how I have always pictured her, and I will do my best to expand on her personality as I see it. It is my goal to make this as expansive and immersive as possible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona Amell is First Enchanter Irving's apprentice, working hard to become a Mage of talent and respectability. She understands the need for time to herself, however, and insists upon exploring interests other than magic. 
> 
> The beginning of the year 9:30 Dragon has gone much as the others have, with the exception of a startling number of Mage's being taken to their Harrowing. A small Wintersend Celebration gives everyone a sense of giddiness, the rarity of revelry's in the Circle giving the apprentice's something to look forward to. Certainly, though young Solona is an exceptionally talented Mage, she has a few more years yet before her Harrowing?

9:30 Dragon  
Kinloch Hold (or, The Circle Tower)  
Ferelden

        My legs had begun to go numb, the stone biting into the soft flesh through the thin carpet and fabric of my robes. I pulled up into a kneel, willing the pins and needles away. I reached for the book I had been working through, looking at my scattered notes and piles of books. I brushed my fingers across the embossed leather, a feeling of joy skittering through me. I had finished my thorough investigation of _The Noble Families of Ferelden_ last week, and in need of further reading that had nothing to do with my studies, I had scoured the library for something. I hadn’t known what I was looking for, just something different, something unknown, and that’s when I found it. The tome, lost in the back corner of a shelf, covered in dust. _The Noble Families and Histories of the Free Marches_. I had smiled, feeling something like fate stroking my spine in gooseflesh.  
        I had brushed the dust from it lovingly, placing the hefty tome on the desk with some trouble, and flipped through the pages until I saw familiar words. _Emerius_. Historic Kirkwall. It was where I was from, or so I had been told. I had been far too young when I had been taken to the Circle, and I remembered very little of my life there. I had spent any free time over the next week, slowly making my way through the historical events of The City of Chains. I had finally finished early last evening, just in time to read through the first of the noble houses before dinner. I mumbled to myself as I read, a small smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. Being the only apprentice in the library was a rare thing, and I planned to take full advantage. I paused in my reading, glancing to my pile of things. Tucked beneath my finished studies, was an apple and loaf of bread I had spirited from the kitchens. It was a meager dinner meal, but the idea of having space to myself had been too tempting. I would sneak my food back to the dormitory before bed. I continued my reading, lost in history, with only the sound of pages turning to keep me company. I tucked my legs further to the side to get more comfortable.  
        The distinctive clink and clatter of armor could be heard, echoing through the lofty ceilings. I felt myself tense, gripping the book in my lap tighter, hoping that the sound would go past me to the stairs. I inwardly cringed as I heard him pause, and turn towards me, the slow gait accentuated by the jingle of chainmail. I paused in my reading, realizing that I had read the same sentence three times, but I kept my head down as he came to a stop in front of me. I glanced further forward, his metal boots shining with the candlelight around me. He coughed softly, attempting to get my attention. I sighed, lifting my gaze slowly, over the chain skirt, the red fabric with the Chantry’s golden sunburst, to his breastplate with Andraste’s flaming sword. I flicked my eyes up to his face, and he looked down at me curiously, a smirk at the corner of his lips.  
        I smiled, the tension in my shoulders releasing. It was hard to be anxious around Cullen. His wavy hair was neatly brushed, his goatee trimmed. I didn’t think that I had ever seen him with even a hair out of place. High cheekbones and a strong chin gave him a rugged appearance, but his eyes were always kind. I pushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear, cocking my head to the side as I waited for him to speak. I hid a smirk as he seemed to realize that I was waiting for him, the tips of his ears turning pink.  
       “Oh… Uhm… Hello. I ah… Was just walking by, and noticed that you… you, were on the floor… Is… Is there any particular reason for that?” He asked, stumbling over his words, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. I gestured at my pile of things, spanning a few feet around me in all directions.  
       “Space!” I said exuberantly, laughing softly. His compassionate face turned to confusion, amber eyes squinting at me. I smiled back, wondering if my dark hair was wild, if the kohl smudged around my blue eyes had bled past the desired effect.  
       “I… can’t imagine that you might be comfortable… Sitting on the floor like that.” He paused as he looked about the mess. “Surely this is not your work for the evening? Is the First Enchanter such a demanding master?” He asked, sounding as if he might be upset on my behalf.  
       “Oh, no. My assigned work is that pile there,” I said, pointing at the sheaf of papers, hoping that he didn’t notice my dinner beneath it. “I finished it earlier. I thought I might take some time to finish my own reading.” I patted the book with a loving hand, stuffing a note into the pages to mark my place before sliding the heavy tome to the floor, pulling back up to my knees. He looked as though he was about to say something, before he paused, looking down at me with a look I would almost describe as panic. But he continued, however awkwardly, and I brushed the thought aside.  
       “I… I see… And you skipped dinner to read… What, exactly?” He said, sounding distracted as he crossed his arms over his breastplate.  
“History. Currently the history of the Free Marches, Kirkwall, specifically,” I said, nodding towards the book with a smile. “It’s where I’m from. Maybe I can learn something.” He looked at me as though I had grown a second head, glancing towards the pile of papers that had actually been assigned to me, and then to all the extra.  
       “I take it that you like History? I’ve never been very interested… In history, that is.” He said, sounding as if I might take offense to his disinterest in history. “Did you like Kirkwall?” He asked quickly, as if jumping to a different subject might distract me from my supposed offense.  
       “I have found that I enjoy it quite a bit. I’m not certain why… But it takes my mind off of everything else. It can be a bit overwhelming… All the magic.” I paused, attempting to remember what my younger years had been like. I only remembered flashes of memories… The face of a smiling woman, who I assumed to be my mother. Her features were soft and indistinct; heart shaped face, black hair, pale skin, eyes that changed in color depending on the day. I often wondered if I had simply taken the view from a mirror and assumed she looked similar, my own memory nothing more than wishful thinking. I remembered the coast, a lovely room overlooking a garden, and snippets of other things. “I think I did. But I don’t really remember.” I said, running a finger absentmindedly along the spine of the book.  
       “Oh! Of course… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have brought it up…” He looked almost as if he had swallowed a toad, moving to rub the back of his neck again. I laughed softly.  
       “It’s alright, Cullen.” He paled slightly, and I gave him a look with an arched eyebrow, but he shook his head slightly. “Though, was there something that you needed? Or did you just see an apprentice lounging on the floor, and you absolutely had to investigate?” I asked, smiling up at him.  
       “Oh… No… I was just curious. I will leave you to your reading.” He nodded at me, giving me an awkward wave before trudging away. I pulled the book back to me, rearranging my hair into what I hoped was less of a mess, and continued my reading.  
        I was nearly half through the A’s when the sound of metal greeted me once more. I grimaced, knowing that my time alone was slowly slipping through my fingers, and decided to continue my reading and ignore my unwanted guest. Surely it was just one of the Templars checking to make sure that I hadn’t actually sprouted two heads.  
        I nearly jumped out of my skin when a metal tray was set next to me, the book sliding off the side of my legs. Cullen smiled at me, pushing the tray with a steaming bowl of soup further towards me. Tan hands reached for the apple and bread that I had thought cleverly hidden, and placed them on the tray. “I… I told the kitchen staff that Irving had you working on a project… You… You should eat better, you know…” He said as he stood from his kneel. “Goodnight, Solona.” I gaped at him as he slowly walked away, listening to the chain mail clink as he ascended the stairs. 

        I had finished my soup quickly, sheepishly hiding the tray to take back to the kitchens later in the evening. A giddy smile had been on my lips for the better part of an hour, well past when the other apprentices came back through, some of them giving my slowly expanding pile a dirty look. I felt my cheeks color anytime someone glanced in my direction, Cullen’s soft goodnight running through my mind. I shook myself, shooing the feeling of butterflies from my stomach. I was nothing more than a foolish girl. Yes, Cullen was a rarity among the Templars, a kind man who treated you as if you were a person rather than just an assignment, but he treated all Mages with the same respect. I should remember not to allow my girlish crush to dramatize his simple kindness.  
        Slowly gathering my things, I moved them to one of the desks that lined this hall of the library, hoping that no one would notice the tray on the chair. I turned one last page in the tome, wondering if I could get one last family in before having to sneak back to the kitchens. I glanced briefly at the two new pages before me, pausing suddenly with a feeling of curious horror. There, on the next page over, was a stylized image of two doves with talons interlocked, their wings spanning out in the knot-work that Kirkwall Crests were known for. In elegant script was the family name attached to the crest: Amell.  
        My eyebrows knit in confusion, and I quickly scanned the rows of neat handwriting describing a brief family history that began shortly after Garahel defeated the Fourth Blight. A slow but steady rise to power reached it’s peak in Lord Aristide Amell, who had been chosen to succeed Perrin Threnhold as Viscount after his unsuccessful coup, until tragedy struck. Magic was found in the bloodline, and the scandal was too prominent to overcome. Marlowe Dumar was appointed Viscount in Aristide’s place.  
        A small, tidy family tree followed. Aristide and Bethann Walker were listed most prominently, daughter Leandra and a son Gamlen branching from them in strong, bold lines. His brother Fausten was included to the side, next to an unnamed wife, their children Damion and Revka below. From Revka, five unnamed children were listed, and with a trembling hand I brushed my fingers across the script. Beneath each entry, a circle was penned in blue ink. With a shuddering breath, I placed a finger lightly over the first circle, brushing down over the words written below: _Ferelden’s Circle of Magi_. 

 

        I nearly jumped out of my skin when a metal tray was set next to me, the book sliding off the side of my legs. Cullen smiled at me, pushing the tray with a steaming bowl of soup further towards me. Tan hands reached for me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my face. His voice, rough with emotion, spoke my name softly, “Solona…” I felt the warmth rising in my face as I leaned towards him, his hands weaving into my hair. I shuddered, my lips only inches from his, my hands gripping the warm metal of his gauntlets.  
        I jerked awake, rolling from my bunk in a panic as the door slammed back against the stone wall. I glanced about the room, watching in terror as Astrid Trevarthen was carried from the room by an armored Templar, tears running down her face. The enormous door to the dormitory fell shut, the sound foreboding and final. I pulled up from the crouch I had landed in, sitting delicately on the edge of my bed. A feeling of hollow shock permeated my bones, and I stared at the metalwork on the large oak door. Some of the apprentices fell back asleep, others gathered around a set of bunks to gossip softly. Somewhere behind me someone lit a candle, it’s soft glow giving some light to the room.  
        I looked behind me to Astrid’s empty bunk, the blankets twisted and pulled from the thin mattress. She was a few years older than me, brought to the circle at an unprecedented young age, her progress outpacing that of her peers for many years, until she leveled out to a matching pace. Recently she had begun to fall behind, or so she had told those who asked why she was determined to study during every waking hour. We weren’t close by any means, and likely couldn't even be considered friends, though we spoke more frequently than some of the others. My tendency to avoid sleep had been prominent since my arrival at the Circle, hers only beginning in the last few months. I would have thought being the only two apprentices awake would have led to some sort of bonding, but she was focused only on her studies.  
        I glanced at the desk ahead of me, where she had been studying for the better part of two weeks, only stopping when someone yelled at her to blow out the candle. She had taken to avoiding the library, stating too many distractions as her reasoning. Lack of sleep had set dark circles under her usually bright green eyes, and she had become snappish, focused only on her reading. Perhaps she had known they would come for her soon.  
I watched as Jowan walked from his side of the dormitory, a loose robe hanging over his sleeping clothes. He sat in front of me, cross-legged on the cool stone, his high pitched voice pinched in worry. “I hope she comes back… She was worried, you know, that she might not…” He sighed, glancing behind me at the empty bunk. His black hair was a mess, falling into his dark eyes. His cheeks and chin were shadowed with stubble, reminding me of how much older he was. Sometimes I forgot, his playful teasing or childish grousing making him seem far younger.  
       “She’s one of the most skilled of us, Jowan. She’ll be back before you know it, packing up her things to move upstairs.” The confidence with which I said the words was not for show, I truly believed that out of any of the apprentices here, she was most likely to finish her Harrowing with exceeding efficiency, putting the rest of us to shame. I looked at the pockets of people, leaning into each other, whispering about one thing or another. A few determined apprentices had put their pillows over their heads, and I wondered if they had truly managed to fall back asleep.  
        The dormitory had bunks for fifty people, small, thin things, many of them squeezed close together. It had been years since there had been someone at my feet, and I considered myself lucky that I had been placed in a row where there wasn’t another set of bunks directly next to me. Or… Perhaps, unlucky. Maybe feeling someone sleep so close to you would be comforting, albeit awkward for some amount of time. I felt my ears warm, thinking about sleeping so close to another person… I knew that some of the others had gotten close after sharing beds so close. And though the unisex quarters were patrolled by Templars and Senior Enchanters every few hours, sometimes you heard things in the middle of the night.  
        Jowan was looking at me with a curious look, and I felt myself flush. I shook my head, glancing about the room again. “I wonder if they’ve ever actually had fifty apprentices here…” I shuddered at the thought. With twenty we had enough room to spread out, only sharing the close-knit bunks if it was our preference, but the showers only had enough room for four at a time, the small space hidden behind two short walls at the end of the room. There were tables for chess and conversation, but more often than not they were taken over by the students who hadn’t been fast enough to get one of the few desks. My few possessions were locked in a trunk on the floor, my robes neatly folded over a few personal books and trinkets. There was a second, identical room, where another twenty or so apprentices were housed. I wonder, had there ever been a full hundred…?  
       “I hope not. It’s crowded enough! They don’t give us enough space…” His voice lilted into a high whine. “They don’t give us enough of anything, if you ask me.” I nodded my agreement, hiding my smile at his petulant tone.  
        There had been an unparalleled number of apprentices taken to their Harrowing in the last few months. Much of the time they were taken in the middle of the night, with only the lightest of sleepers waking up to see them walking from the room, or, occasionally carried. In rare situations the Templars would make enough noise to wake many in the room, or the apprentice would be frightened enough upon waking to scream. But it always ended the same, the newly recognized Mage being brought back down in the morning, unconscious and left to sleep for the rest of the morning. And then you would see them smiling, taking their trunk upstairs, their eyes shining with pride.  
        I couldn’t wait for my Harrowing. I would move my things upstairs, have space to myself, and continue my studies. First Enchanter Irving would eventually need a replacement. Jowan and I talked for nearly an hour, before yawns began on both sides. Many of the others had already drifted back to their bunks, the candle burning low. He looked around the room cautiously, pulling himself up and sitting next to me on the bed, so close I could feel the warmth through my nightgown. He leaned closer, whispering in my ear.  
       “Have you ever wondered what it would be like, to have a relationship…?” He glanced to two apprentices, curled as close together as they could with the small boards between their bunks. Martin had his arm reaching over it, his hand resting on Lissette’s hip. “They’re lucky… They found each other… But what if you found someone… Someone that was forbidden?” He asked softly, and I felt my face flame, immediately thinking of Cullen. What was more forbidden than a Templar and a Mage…? I looked at him, concern knitting my eyebrows, but he was looking away, as if in his own world.  
       “I… I don’t know what I would do. But there is so little happiness here… I think you should take what you can get…” I spoke the words softly, brushing my hands through my hair, thinking of the dream I had so rudely been awoken from. Jowan nodded, scratching his stubbled cheek.  
       “Well… I suppose we should get some sleep. We need to be up early, while Astrid sleeps the morning away,” he fussed, stretching before he wandered back to his bunk. I called after him.  
       “Good night, Jowan.” He waved a hand at me, not turning back. I rolled back into the mattress, pulling the blankets back up to my chin, not realizing how chill I had been. Winter would soon be over, with Wintersend on us before we knew it… And I wondered if The Circle would host a play to celebrate. It was a frivolous thought, but they relented and gave us Mages some entertainment, on occasion. We would receive word of the great tournaments in Minrathous, and the marriage announcements would come shortly after. The Mages would never be free to see the Grand Tournaments or the Proving Grounds, and no one would arrange marriages for us. I found myself hoping that they would have a celebration this year. It was always disheartening to have nearly every holiday pass you by, hearing of the great gatherings in nearby Redcliffe afterwards, thinking of what others were doing while you sat in the library with the other apprentices, the room filled with silence as the Templars watched over you.  
        I drifted off to sleep, smiling at the amber eyes I found there. 

        I awoke early in the morning with the other apprentices, dawn lightening the high windows near the ceiling. I often wondered if they had once been magnificent windows, with stained glass included in the curved, delicate metal work. It would have been beautiful, the sun drifting in in different colored bands of dancing light… Instead only the uppermost section was glass, the rest filled with carved stone banded in metal. Perhaps I was silly, seeing a cage when there was nothing more but Avvaren architecture.  
        Waiting my turn for one of the small showers, I blinked in a tired haze. The warm water was a delicious treat, one that was over far too soon. I sat at one of the three vanities to pull my hair up into a neat bun and applied my makeup in small strokes, kohl lining my tilted eyes. I wondered if I could find paintings of them… The Amell’s. If I would see my likeness in the portraits… Or if I was just hoping that I had finally discovered the answer that many apprentices asked… “Where did I come from?” I sighed, wondering which parent I had received my appearance from. Did I look more like my mother or my father? Was it a memory, that face that looked so much like mine? I heard a disgruntled huff behind me, and I quickly packed up my things, leaving the vanity for the next person in line.  
        I was making my bed when a Templar carried Astrid into the room, setting her delicately on her unmade bed. She looked exhausted, her hair a mess, her Mage’s robes rumpled. I felt the anxiety in my shoulders lessen, smiling at her success. A bell echoed lightly through the Tower, and I scampered off to breakfast before I missed out.

 

        The next few weeks flowed with a sense of dull excitement after it was announced that First Enchanter Irving would, in fact, be hosting a small celebration. One that would include a small play, and even a traveling bard or two. The Templars had been talking in hushed tones, wondering if they would be among the chosen to be on duty, or if they would be free to join the celebrations at the docks, or, perhaps, even Redcliffe. I secretly hoped that Cullen would be chosen to stay behind, uncaring if it was selfish. I heard two Templars talking, leaning against the entrance to the library. “You’re lucky that you’re not one of the poor sods stuck with the spellbinds,” he said to his friend as he leaned close. My cheeks had flared with anger at the insult, and I glared at the Templar who had said it. He leaned against the stone wall, chatting with his friend, and he glanced at me through his helmet, his eyes uncaring.  
        I had spent the rest of the day in a huff, distracted, wondering if a celebration would even be worthwhile, if the blighted Templars would be watching us all day. Irving was concerned, but I insisted that I was fine until I had lit his robe on fire in my distraction during our practice.  
“Your heart just isn’t in it today, my child. Take some time this evening and rest. It will do you some good. We can begin again tomorrow.” His halting voice was gruff, but kind. He pushed me from the room lightly, a hand on my shoulder. I rushed through the halls to my dormitory, passing by Cullen in a flurry. I glanced at him and gave him a tight smile, but I knew my face was red with embarrassment, and I couldn’t bare the thought of talking to him. I had spent the better part of the evening in the library. I was staring at one of my beloved history books, eyes unseeing. My face turned red anytime someone looked at me. Anytime a group of two or more people passed by, they leaned close and whispered, glancing in my direction. I mumbled under my breath. “I can only _guess_ what they were talking about…”  
        I thumbed through the pages, glancing at the drawings but not much else.  
        Jowan’s voice added to the pressure growing behind my eyes, the high pitched drone setting my teeth on edge. “Did you _really_ set the First Enchanter's robes on fire!” He exclaimed, rather than questioned. I glared up at him, and he at least had the courtesy to turn red. “I _didn’t_ even know you knew how to cast a fire spell!” He put his hands on the desk, leaning closer to me.  
       “I don't,” I said, the grumble evident in my voice. He paled a bit, and then pulled a chair closer. I glanced about, noting the increased Templar presence on this side of the library. Nothing like rumors of uncontrolled magic to bring them like flies to carrion. I would be watched with the utmost scrutiny for the next few days.  
       “So what happened?” He asked, his voice a whine. I glanced around awkwardly, leaning closer to him.  
       “It’s the damn Templars, the nug humping bastards.” I ground out, my voice a low hiss. “They've been complaining for the ‘poor sods stuck with the spellbinds.’ Don’t they realize we'd much rather be at the docks, or at Redcliffe too? It's their blighted fault that we’re locked in this tower. Though to listen to them tell it, it’s our fault for being bloody _born_.” I felt the anger coloring my cheeks, and Jowan looked at me with shock.  
       “Makers breath, Solona. I thought you _liked_ the Templars? Or at least some of them?” He asked, his ears red as he looked at the men placed throughout the library. They stood perfectly still, covered head to toe in their metal armor, looking like statues. They might as well be, they were obviously empty husks. I glowered, knowing that my ire wasn’t all that fair. I sighed.  
       “You’re right, they're not all bad. I shouldn’t let two Templars color my opinion of the entire order. There’s not much sense in that. Though _they_ certainly allow a few bad Mages to impact how they treat all of us.” I glared about the room, only to see Cullen turn and walk the other way, a look of shy acceptance on his face. _Of course_. Of course he would think I was glaring at him. I groaned, my head hitting the desk with a thump. The anger seeped out of me, replaced with a sense of guilt. I’d have to find Cullen and apologize. “Can we talk about something else?” I asked, taking on Jowan’s whine.  
       “Aren’t you still excited for the Wintersend party? I hear there’s going to be bards, and even a minstrel!” I sighed, looking down at the pages before me. There was a lovely image of a woman in a fine dress, corset griping her waist tightly, her hair done up in ornate braids. I glanced at the words below, wondering what it had to do with history. _Empress Celene at her coronation_. I shrugged, thinking that it was a silly reason to include Orlesian fashion, but liking the dress all the same. My girlish imagination wished I could wear a dress to the celebration. Or anything other than Mages robes, really.  
       “Yes, of course I am. We get to celebrate so rarely…” I said, knowing that I didn’t sound very convincing.  
       “You said that you heard some of the Templars talking about having to stay behind to watch us. Did you hear anything about the Initiates?” He asked, sounding as if he was meaning to sound nonchalant, but the intensity of his eyes betrayed him. I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion, but I shrugged at him.  
       “No... I hadn’t heard of anything. I doubt that they would be allowed to go to a revelry, though. I doubt the Chantry would approve… Why?” He gulped, looking at me with something akin to panic.  
       “No… No reason. I was just curious. But you’re right, not very priestess-y.” He said in a rush, looking at the Templars around the room. “What play do you think they’ll do?” He blurted out, as if anxious to change the subject.  
       “I don’t know. I hope something romantic.” I said in jest, giggling as his ears turned pink. I was partially serious, however. It might be nice, to indulge in girlish fantasies for a night. My fingers brushed against the colorful depiction of Empress Celene, her face mostly hidden behind an ornate mask. Her lips were a deep red, and the dress had a most daring cut to the collar. I knew I’d never go to a ball, never have the chance to wear a lovely dress, never be courted. I could at least make the best of the small party in the Tower.  
       “You’re impossible, Solona. I doubt that Irving would be the kind of man to ask for a romantic play.”  
       “Of course he wouldn’t. That doesn’t mean that the theater doesn’t know what people want!” I said, hoping that it was true. He rolled his eyes at me, getting up and moving his chair back to the other desk.  
       “Well, _some_ of us have studies to attend to. I would almost accuse you of doing it on purpose, to get a day off, if you didn’t look so miserable.” He harrumphed, stalking away. I sighed, spending another hour flipping through pages before giving up and going to take a nap, if only to relieve myself of a headache. 

        The next few days passed much the same, my mood taking a drastic turn for the worse when I heard that Cullen had been given the evening of Wintersend off. Even Jowan avoided me, preferring to spend his time in the quiet of the Chantry. I really _must_ be in a horrible mood, for him to avoid me there.  
        The morning of Wintersend was all excited whispers and groans of being forced to attend our studies for the first part of the day. Time seemed to move as slow as possible, and I severely hoped that Irving would let me free earlier than normal, if only so that I could get to a vanity before the area was overtaken. He grumbled at my distraction throughout the day, finally giving me an indulgent smile and shooing me away. I sprinted through the halls, glancing to Cullen’s usual spot as I passed through one of the doorways. I sighed, knowing that he was likely out celebrating, but I had to look, the spot looking lonely. I scoffed at myself. The Tower wasn’t lonely… I was. I pushed the thought aside.  
        I was giddy to find that I was the only apprentice in the dormitory, and took full advantage of the empty space. I washed with scented oils, dressed in a finely embroidered robe, and sat down at one of the vanities to do my hair just as others started wandering in. I spent the better part of half an hour attempting to braid my hair into at least something _similar_ to that of the image in the book, but after my third attempt I gave up on the intricate style, settling for something different than my regular knotted bun. I left pieces of hair to curl about my face and added more makeup to my face than I normally would have, finally vacating the bench for an eagerly waiting apprentice. I had heard the disgruntled whispers behind me, ignoring the complaints that Irving was too generous to the teacher’s pet, because I knew that it was likely true.  
        I scurried into the library, attempting to find a decent seat in what was certain to become a cramped space. Someone had moved the large bookcases back against one wall, partially obscuring the doorway to the second floor. I wondered what had moved them, magic, or the strong Templars? Chairs had been placed near the back of the room, but a good bunch of people would be left standing. I had thought that the second floor landing would have been used, the space large enough for many people, but the space was awkward, the store rooms behind the artistic metal walls taking up too much space. A small grouping of people were already here, taking seats closest to where the play was to take place. I chose a chair at the back, wondering how many people would be forced to stand behind me.  
        I sighed as the Templars made their way into the room, placing themselves around the perimeter. I felt antsy, knowing that they would pay particular attention to me after the incident earlier this week. I watched as Jowan entered the room, and he looked about. I waved softly, but his eyes brushed past me before he scampered across the room. I raised an eyebrow as he went to sit behind the Initiates, talking with another mage from our dormitory. Their masculine laughter echoed over to me, and I frowned, unhappy to be sitting alone. I started as someone began speaking directly behind me.  
       “I wonder how many people the First Enchanter is planning on stuffing in here?” His voice was soft, and I looked behind me, knowing my eyes were still wide with surprise. Cullen wore a simple tunic, rather than his Templar armor, and was leaning over me as he looked at the small, makeshift stage. “Oh… I’m sorry… Did I… Did I, ah… Startle you?” He gave me a sheepish look, running a hand through his hair. I spared a moment to wonder if the flaxen waves would turn to tight curls if he ever let it grow.  
       “Oh, no… Well, yes.” I waved a hand in dismissal and turned to face the stage to hide my blush. “I would have thought that you would be at the docks with the other off-duty Templars.” I said, hoping that I didn’t sound too relieved.  
       “The Spoiled Princess doesn’t have a play.” He said, watching as someone began to place props around the stage.  
       “For whatever reason, I didn't think of you as someone who enjoyed plays. Maybe it’s because they are so often based on history…” I replied in a playful tone, enjoying the awkward cough I heard from behind me.  
       “I… No. I enjoy plays just fine.” I frowned slightly. I hadn’t been serious, but something in his tone made me believe that I was correct. “Oh, look, there’s the First Enchanter. Surely the evening is about to begin?” He said awkwardly, before standing up and moving to lean against the wall. I heard him whispering with a fellow Templar, and had a moment of startled realization. I felt my shoulders tense and I knew that I was glowering. Irving began to speak, introducing the important people of the evening, but I found myself uncaring. Certainly Cullen would enjoy the docks much more than a play in a small library room in the Tower. One thing that was well known about him, was his sense of duty. If he were asked to stay behind to watch a particularly problematic apprentice, due to her obvious comfort around him, I was convinced that he would.  
        I sighed, watching the play for the rest of the evening with renewed interest. I was determined to enjoy myself at least a little bit. It was a popular play about King Maric during the Orlesian occupation, about how he became known as “Maric the Savior.” There was, in fact, romance, and I glanced at Jowan as he leaned forward in his seat. I knew he was just as soft as me, and spared a small smile. The play dramatized King Maric and Queen Rowan’s early relationship, before their titles, when she was a high ranking official of his army. It really was a lovely story, and based on true history too. I wondered how much of it was true, and how much of it was dramatization. I vowed to find a book on the subject to see if I could find out.  
        After the play, I found myself wandering through the party aimlessly, listening to the soft music that echoed off the stone. Jowan had disappeared, and rather than stand awkwardly in a corner, I had decided movement was my best bet. I spoke with a few of the other apprentices, but I heard them whispering as soon as I walked away. I had hoped that setting the First Enchanter’s robe on fire would have been quickly forgotten, but that was wishful thinking. I finally excused myself under the guise of a headache, though it wasn’t entirely untrue, scampering through the halls to my dormitory. I turned to see Cullen following me, a look of concern and confusion on his face. I gave him a tight smile and small waive before escaping into the dormitory, pushing the door shut behind me.  
        I spent the next few weeks focusing on my studies, noting that Jowan was increasingly absent whenever I tried to find him. Perhaps it was time for me to lend my attention to my studies, rather than anything more frivolous, at least until I found a history book on the Orlesian occupation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Theodosian Vocabulary:  
> Emerius - Ancient name for Kirkwall.  
> Wintersend- This Annum denotes the end of winter, celebrated in the beginning of Plutanis. In Minrathous there are many tourneys and contests at the Proving Grounds. In the south, it's a gathering day for trade, theater, and in some areas the arrangement of marriages.  
> Plutanis- Equivalent of February  
> Annum- Holiday  
> Minrathous - The capitol of the Tevinter Imperium.  
> Avvar - A tribe of the Alamarri. With the help of the Dwarves, the Avvar's built Kinloch hold, as well as Vigil's Keep.  
> Alamarri - The ancient ancestors of the Ferelden people.  
> I have used this lovely thread for much of my inspiration in regards to cursing an insults.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/topic/95729/58880782/To-the-Void-with-That-Swearing-and-exclamations-in-Thedas
> 
> On Amell Family Crest: I feel as though many people see the Amell crest and immediately think of two hawks, due to the Hawke family. I have read some theories stating that due to the diminished Amell name, their sigil was lost and it was replaced with that of Hawke’s when they reach that level of notoriety. However, Malcolm Hawke was not a member of the nobility, and therefore had no reason to have a crest, and it can also be seen far before Hawke ever receives his/her own crest. I feel that the sigil is too soft for a predatory bird, and I have included it in my story as two doves, because I have literally always seen two doves. I take it as a twist of fate that Leandra married a man named Hawke, with her family sigil being that of birds. 
> 
> On the Amell Family: In DAII, Leandra will explain that the taint of magic was the reason for her family's downfall. If your Warden in Origins was a Mage, she will state that they are "one of us," one of her cousin Revka's children. She states that all of the children eventually had signs of magic, and they were taken to different circles across Thedas. However, Revka's entry in The World of Thedas Vol II states that only the first child is shown to have magic, and the other four are taken away from Kirkwall by their father in order to escape the disastrous things that happened there. This does not mean that the children were not discovered to be Mages after leaving Kirkwall. Perrin Threnhold is executed in 9:21 Dragon, meaning that Revka's eldest must have begun to show signs of magic slightly before his death, but after his arrest, considering there had been discussion of Aristide's ascension. I feel like 7 is a good age for such signs to begin, making 9:14 the most likely time for her eldest's birth, making the Warden 16. Considering the Warden is talented enough to garner the attention of Duncan and to be the First Enchanter's own apprentice, I would assume that her entering her Harrowing at such a young age is not only feasible, but expected. I also like the idea that she has many siblings, all of which are also Mages, and therefore have marked them as such. The one issue with this is that it sounds as though Leandra left with Malcolm _after_ Revka's firstborn is discovered to have magic: "Even the Templars agreed that the Amells were worthy successors; however, misfortune struck when Aristide's niece, Revka, gave birth to a mage child. The child was given to the Circle to be raised, but the ascension of a family "tainted" by magical blood would have been a scandal, and Marlowe Dumar was appointed Viscount instead.  
>  After that incident, the fortunes of the Amells soured. Revka gave birth to more children, all found to be mages and taken to the Circle. Damion was accused of smuggling, and Fausten nearly bankrupted the family paying to get charges dropped, while Aristide's treasured daughter Leandra shamed her parents by eloping with the apostate Malcolm Hawke and running away to Ferelden." (From the Amell Family Wiki.)  
> Considering Leandra and Malcolm elope around 9:05 Dragon, I feel that this timeline cannot work. Revka's firstborn would have been 16 when Perrin Threnhold was executed, and I have never heard of a Mage showing their powers that late. It is for this reason that I have decided that Leandra must have left first.
> 
> On the Dormitory: I have used what you can see in the Tower at the beginning of the game as my basis for my description of the dormitory. I actually spent the time to count how many beds there were. (Fifty.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of Fanfiction, please be gentle but unafraid to send me helpful criticism. 
> 
> This work will be written as I play though the game. I will include events and conversations as they happen, though I intend to expand on certain conversations and events. The Solona I depict here is how I have always pictured her, and I will do my best to expand on her personality as I see it. It is my goal to make this as expansive and immersive as possible.
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, using characters from the world of Dragon Age. Dragon Age is the property of BioWare, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. I thank David Gaider and BioWare for creating such a fun sandbox to play in.**


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